


L'Homme Fatal

by rainbowdracula



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, Lapdance, M/M, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:29:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowdracula/pseuds/rainbowdracula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Wesley just needs to unwind with someone without an agenda, and this club was the best place to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L'Homme Fatal

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's writing more for the kink meme? Based on [this prompt](http://daredevilkink.dreamwidth.org/3230.html?thread=6881182#cmt6881182) and ensuing discussion. Everyone wants Dad Matt; instead, you get Dance Matt.
> 
> The soundtrack is Massive Attack's _Mezzanine_ album, which is pure sex.

Wesley was a man of wealth and taste.

Fine suits, fine wine, fine places where the dancers were beautiful and intelligent and the booths weren't sticky. Places where – if you possessed the right amount of cash – you'd be escorted to a tastefully decorated private room where questions were not asked.

And Wesley possessed a lot of cash.

"I'm sorry that your preferred dancer is indisposed," the host said, eyes cast downward in respect. "I hope you'll find his replacement offers you just the same level of service."

"Of course," Wesley said with a gracious smile. "Your performers are always a cut above the rest."

The host, twittering thank-yous, ushered him into Wesley's favorite room. It was done in hot, smoky reds with a velvet couch, gauzy curtains draped everywhere. Wesley settled down on the couch, and took advantage of the complimentary wine on the table next to him, pouring himself a glass of Cabernet.

The music started – low, like a heartbeat slowly gaining in tempo. Wesley settled back, arms spanning across the length of the couch.

The curtains parted, and Wesley swallowed hard.

The dancer was _gorgeous_ – perfectly muscled, trim waist hugged by a black corset matched with black boyshorts that seemed barely able to keep in the dancer's fantastic ass. His red-brown hair was a mess, and his face was mostly covered by a lacy black mask that only brought more attention to his obscene red mouth.

The dancer bit the bottom lip of that mouth, partially hiding behind the curtains like he was shy. Wesley's fists clenched, and he smiled.

"Hello, lovely," Wesley said. "What's your name?"

The dancer giggled, hiding more behind the curtain but twined his leg around it, so Wesley could admire the length of it. "I'm not supposed to tell you, sir."

"Are you supposed to hide behind that curtain the whole time?" Wesley teased. The dancer giggled again, arching his spine so his ass was even more prominent.

The dancer slowly disentangled himself from the curtain, moving with fluid grace to stand in front of Wesley. Wesley grabbed the dancer's thighs, tugging him even closer.

"Has anyone told you you're perfect?" Wesley asked. The dancer bit his lip, blush spreading across his face.

"No," he confessed, and then spread his hands across the shoulders of Wesley's expertly tailored suit. "Especially not someone so handsome and important."

Wesley trailed his hands up to the dancer's waist. "How can you tell I'm important, lovely?"

"Why else would you have such a nice suit?" the dancer laughed, and trailed his hands down to Wesley's chest. "It fits you perfectly."

The dancer suddenly pinned Wesley down to the couch, moving to straddle Wesley's lap with his knees on either side of Wesley's thighs. And he started to _move._

All the playful shyness of before vanished in one sensuous glide, legs spreading wider and wider so that ass was pressed even tighter to Wesley's lap. He tossed his head back, breaths coming out in little huffs. Wesley leaned forward to kiss his throat, but the dancer stopped him with a finger to the lips.

"We're not supposed to touch like _that_ , sir," the dancer huffed with a nervous little pout. Wesley grinned, kissing the dancer's fingers.

"It's alright, lovely," Wesley needled. "No one has to know."

He put his hands on his hips, drawing closer. The dancer still looked unsure.

"The rules say..." the dancer began, but Wesley shushed them.

"Who cares about the rules? You said I was important," Wesley said. "Do you know how important?"

The dancer shook his head, still grinding against Wesley.

"My employer is the most powerful man in Hell's Kitchen," Wesley boasted. "Soon in the entire city. I'll make sure your bosses' won't punish you for having _fun."_

The dancer's mouth widened in amazement. "Really? You really would do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you," Wesley promised, urging the dancer to lay down on the couch. "God, you're beautiful."

The dancer blushed even redder, looking absolutely debauched spread out across the couch. Wesley pulled his underwear off before hastily undoing his own pants.

"You're going to ruin your suit!" the dancer protested, but let his thighs be pushed together nice and tight. Wesley urged him to pull his legs to his chest, which the dancer did without aid or a hint of discomfort.

"I can always get another one," Wesley said. "There's only one of you."

He was achingly hard, and pushing his cock between those smooth, muscular thighs was absolutely heavenly. The dancer let out a little _oh_ of surprise, head tipping back. Wesley started thrusting.

Sweet nonsense spilled out of his mouth, praising the dancer from everything from his thighs to his mouth, and the nonsense evidently was enough to get the dancer to kiss him. It was all tongue and biting, Wesley nipping at that beautiful mouth. The dancer's hands scrambled for purchase on his shoulders.

The dancer was making the sweetest noises, moans that only increased in volume until he came with his back bending into a C-shape with the force of it. It was enough to have Wesley groaning, orgasm one of the most intense in his life.

In the afterglow, Wesley tucked his face into the dancer's neck. The dancer's legs fell open like a wilting flower, and he stroked Wesley's hair with surprising gentleness.

"That was a lot of fun," the dancer giggled, and then bit his lip. "I have another client after this, though..."

Wesley sat up, tucking himself back in. He dug around in his wallet, pulling out two one hundred dollar bills and a card.

"Your tip," Wesley said, tucking them into the dancer's corset. "And my number. I want to see you next time I'm here."

"Oh, thank you, sir!" the dancer said, and then caught Wesley's mouth in another messy kiss.

His time up, Wesley left the room and was escorted to the door by the host, a skip in his step. Matt listened to make sure he was fully down the hall before stretching out. He pulled out his tip and the number.

Wesley definitely was working for Fisk, and Fisk definitely had designs on the whole city. The money would get donated. As for the number...

Matt tucked it back into his corset. Maybe he could get more information out of Wesley yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Wesley strikes me as the type of dude who'd go to a strip club, but only a classy joint. No being amongst the rabble for him. Also very easily manipulated via ego. Or 'ego.'
> 
> I do [commissions!](http://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com/post/121606093217/writing-commissions)
> 
>  
> 
> [rainbowdracula.tumblr.com](http://rainbowdracula.tumblr.com)


End file.
